


forgive our sins forged at the pulpit

by PolzkaDotz



Series: with teeth, we've come this far [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mobster/Cop AU, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Neil Josten, Retirement, Trans Character, mentioned gun wounds, mentioned unsolved murder, technically i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22709881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolzkaDotz/pseuds/PolzkaDotz
Summary: Andrew is a detective about to retire because he was shot during a investigation. Neil is... having a career crisis. But they'll eventually get where they need to, regardless of the fact that Andrew (verbally) doesn't want to help them.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: with teeth, we've come this far [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633363
Comments: 29
Kudos: 98





	forgive our sins forged at the pulpit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [priorwalter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/priorwalter/gifts).



>   
>   
> YES, ITS ALMOST VALENTINE'S DAY FOR Y'ALL, BUT I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT! WHAT MATTERS TO ME IS THAT BLUE'S BIRTHDAY WAS /MORE THAN A MONTH AGO/ AND IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO GIVE IT TO THEM.  
>   
> Blue loves mobster Neil and cop Andrew and nonbinary peeps like us, so I kind of didn't write any of those things. Not technically, at least. Still, Blue, you said i should post it and make it a series to be updated when i had time to write All The Rest I teased you about, so here it is.  
>   
> I did my best with Neil's pronouns (which are also my pronouns!!!), but if i slipped somewhere, not only will I be INCREDIBLY disappointed with myself, but you can also have the honor of telling me in the comments that i messed up and witness the mental breakdown, sort of kasopaskoapk but for real, if I did my babe dirty somewhere, tell me!!!! I'll appreciate it!!!!! (also, this fic requires A LOT of suspension of disbelief in how both professions work in real life. Im here to have fun, not to research the shit out of something and then write about it, like a nerd)  
>   
> hope y'all enjoy this!  
> (title from "I Constantly Thank God for Esteban" by Panic! At The Disco)  
>   
> FUCK I FORGOT TO SAY THAT THIS WAS BETAED BY THE INCREDIBLE [wyvern](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvern)!!!!!!! SYD, IM SO FUCKING SORRY!!!!!!!

“Are we really going to start the gender discussion again?” 

Andrew hated when he found himself in a position where he was forced to agree with Kevin. Kevin was far too obnoxious and annoying, and it was frankly more fun to Andrew when he could openly go against anything Kevin proclaimed confidently—which was pretty much everything that came out of his mouth. 

Here they were, though, both of them together at this fucking stupid meeting, forced to hear the same ignorant shit they'd always heard from Seth Gordon. 

Andrew held in a tiny sigh and crossed his arms. The bright side of his medical leave had been the fact that Andrew wasn’t subjected to this bullshit for _months_. The only bullshit he had to deal with was Neil’s, and that was how he preferred it. 

The dark side of his medical leave had been… nonexistent. There was no bad side to being paid to stay away from this bunch of clowns. 

It was unfortunate that he found himself agreeing with Kevin. It was stupid to get into the discussion of Carnifex’s gender _again_ when it was much more convenient to keep using they/them pronouns, _like they had agreed earlier_. 

Some people didn’t want to abide by that, though. 

“There’s no chance that’s a chick. How the fuck would they subdue and light up a person on fire _while conscious_? That’s impossible!” Gordon argued, and there was a collective sigh through the whole room. Andrew and Renee exchanged a quick glance. Andrew knew about Renee’s past and also about Seth’s stupid argument—Carnifex couldn’t be a woman because their past and _only_ confirmed murder scene had been _incredibly_ violent, with a lot of brute strength applied to separate the limbs of the bodies after burning them—just so that the limbs themselves could be burned _again_ , until it was all ashes. Both Renee and Andrew were aware that gender played no role in criminal motivations, average/maximum strength and/or typical behaviors. Anyone could find themselves in a situation where they needed to commit a crime and found enormous bounts of strength within themselves to carry it on. Especially if they were level-headed enough to complete that level of complex thought in the middle of a murder. 

That particular conclusion seemed to be unable to penetrate Gordon’s thick skull, and they had all been repeating it to him since fucking forever. 

Renee didn’t even bother to move a finger to argue against Gordon's stupidity, because even she had a limit to how many lost causes she wanted to adopt. Detectives Reynolds, Boyd, and Wilds, however, had no such qualms: they started to protest Gordon at the same time—and, unfortunately, they were unfamiliar with the concept of "inside voice." 

Andrew could feel pressure building inside his skull, which was waiting to implode. He looked at the ceiling fan, turning leisurely, and wished he was at home with Neil. Andrew had been called to the meeting because he was the last detective assigned to trying to wrangle the mess of this case—but they had nothing. 

Well, not _exactly_ nothing. They had bodies (four unidentified males, one identified female—Lola Malcolm, who was a suspect of heinous crimes herself) and the nickname of the killer—but it came unattached of _anyone_ willing to point fingers or directions. Carnifex had no physical description or gender confirmation, and was pretty much a nobody before the crimes. After them, they’d become someone to be feared, since they were always mentioned with deference. 

Whoever this Carnifex was, they’d gained a lot of traction from their murders. They’d been a force strong enough to keep the mouth of everybody shut about their crimes and whatever else they did after that. 

Andrew had been on the case for almost fourteen years and it felt weird to be on an eight-month vacation from it—possibly a _forever_ vacation, even. 

Getting shot in your shoulder did that to your professional career, even if it had been in a lucky place—if the bullet had gone a little either upwards or downwards, an artery or one of his lungs would have been hit. Instead, it just caused a lot of damage to Andrew’s nerves, which proved to be a _pain_ in more ways than one. 

All the specialists Andrew had been dragged to by Neil agreed on it: it was incredible that Andrew had recovered so much of his range of movements, but he wouldn’t have a full-range ever again, not even after years of physical therapy. Not being able to hold a gun and fire accurately tended to be the end of a career on the streets for a detective. Desk job would be Andrew’s future in the precinct, and everybody there knew that his career was over. Most of them tiptoed around him in the few times he’d been back. 

It was unbelievably dumb. Andrew had been subjected to the pitying looks, hushed gossiping—but only from those who had never really _worked_ with him. The ones who had didn’t even bother to offer condolences: they knew that Andrew couldn’t care less about his job. 

The meeting only served to remind Andrew of another reason why he couldn’t care about this job: the fucking annoying coworkers. Andrew hadn’t missed them in the months since he’d taken three bullets (on top of the shoulder injury, he’d dealt with the other two just grazing his thigh and forearm, both burning like a motherfucker), leaving him with a lovely entry scar and no exit wound. 

As Andrew watched the fan spin its idle rotation for what felt like at least three eternities, he pondered his life choices and what new things he wanted to bring to into his near future. For example, he felt like he was almost ready to approach Sergeant Wymack and ask politely to be shot in the head just so this meeting would be over. It was all a fucking _joke,_ after all, and like every single joke Andrew had ever heard before, he wasn't laughing. 

“Alright, shut up!” Wymack finally yelled, and there was a bit of quiet grumbling until all of them started to actually calm down. “Seth, keep your fucking opinions to yourself from now on. You’re here only because you’ll be assigned the case from now on, but nobody cares to hear anything you have to say. Andrew already provided us with a much more appropriate solution for _that_ particular problem that keeps our biases apart from the working _theories_. Nobody in all the confessions or all the tapped phones we had access _ever_ assigned a gender to Carnifex. Neutral pronouns are to be used for them and _no_ , I’ll not fucking budge on that.” 

“But statistically speaking, that level of violence _—_ ” 

“Can be replicated right here, right now, if you need proof that not only men are able to commit crimes,” Reynolds drawled, looking very nonchalant as she took a glass nail file from her purse. Gordon stopped protesting after that. 

Like always. Because there always came a point where Gordon remembered that he eventually wanted in Reynolds’ pants and, if he kept enraging her, someday he would be denied the possibility of getting his dick wet. 

Andrew tried not to think about Gordon’s dick, though. It kept his innards calm and prevented the appearance of nausea. 

Nonetheless, Andrew was definitely not impressed with how little his coworkers had changed in eight months. But he was also _not_ interested in staying here for that much longer. “Sarge, this is all really interesting, but—” 

“You shut up as well, Minyard, we haven’t gotten to the part I need you here for.” Andrew shrugged when Wymack looked at him but he did, in fact, shut up. Wymack stared at him for a while and then directed his gaze to the other detectives who Andrew refused to think of as coworkers. “I know that the last brush we had against Carnifex left one of our own in a very bad shape, but the fact is that since then, there’s been radio silence.” 

Andrew spruced himself up in his chair. Wymack went on, describing how suddenly, Carnifex had disappeared from their tapped phones’ conversations, how the criminal activity linked to them had essentially disappeared, and, much more incriminating, that there’d been some violent crimes recently on turfs where Carnifex was _known_ to control very tightly and… absolutely nothing had happened. There was no violent reaction at all. 

Wymack had assigned Gordon to the case and Andrew almost snorted in amusement. There'd be no new discoveries in the case if Seth Gordon was the one responsible for it: he was incompetent, lazy, and had absolutely no respect to the guidelines of their profession, meaning that no new clues would be processed correctly. The case was essentially going to be closed, and reopened only when new evidence appeared. 

And Andrew knew that no new evidence would _ever_ appear. 

Wymack was, and it pained Andrew to admit it, a genius. And the fact that he was _that_ ready to cover for them was… a convenient stupidity. Although, it was worth noting that Andrew sure knew someone who would get emotional over that particular gesture. 

Wymack stopped describing the last crime associated with Carnifex and turned to Andrew. "What do you think?" 

"I think," Andrew took a deep breath and thought about it for a second. Or just tried to create suspense. Andrew didn't care enough to try and figure out what his intentions actually were. "Four months is an awfully short amount of time to come to any conclusion." 

"That's bullshit," Gordon protested. "He's clearly been killed!" 

"The criminal world would be in a much bigger chaos if _they_ had been killed," Andrew said with a dismissive hand, and Gordon gulped when he looked around and a lot of people on the team were glaring at him due to the pronoun slip. "Do you have any proof to affirm _they_ are dead?" 

"I'm searching for them!" 

"So, you came up with a _theory_ and then started to search for proof?" Andrew gave Wymack a look that was worth more than any words he could waste debating proper research techniques with Gordon. 

Gordon was an idiot, but even he could read the shift in the room's atmosphere. He tried to defend himself, but Wymack predicted it and made him shut his mouth with a single look. 

"Has there ever been a gap this big on the case?" 

"Not since I was assigned to it, no." 

"And before that?" 

Three months before Andrew was assigned to the case, there'd been a five-month silence in the criminal world. The patterns of the crimes before that gap were different, and they’d suspected that there'd been some shift in power. It was also a working theory that Carnifex's murder scene had been some kind of entrance test. 

Wymack hummed at that. "So there might be some power shift happening." 

Andrew shrugged. It wasn't his job to make assumptions anymore. 

"Do you think it could be anything else?" 

"Like I said, four months is not long enough to be certain about anything." 

Wymack sighed and finished the meeting. Andrew immediately got up and went out of the room. He was fast enough to be the first one out of the door, but not fast enough to completely rid himself of his ex-coworkers. 

“Minyard,” Gordon said, and Andrew almost rolled his eyes without stopping to wait. Unfortunately for Andrew, not only were Gordon’s legs almost as tall as himself, Andrew’s injury made him limp and slowed him down considerably. Still, Andrew thought that maybe Gordon would get the idea that Andrew was gunning out of there to be away from them, but nope, not even ten seconds after calling Andrew's name, the asshole was jogging after him. 

“Hey, asshole, I'm talking to you!” Gordon snarled, and jogged to try and prevent Andrew from keep walking by stopping in front of his path. Andrew sidestepped him easily and kept walking as fast as he could. Gordon was dumber than a door in a lot of different ways, but he wasn't stupid enough to try and grab Andrew, even though Andrew kind of wished he would be, just so he could fill his stab quota of the day. 

Andrew couldn't help but curse his short legs when Gordon was able to keep pace with him without a problem. Andrew would've liked to outrun the bastard. 

"I haven't found any clues yet, but I was thinking… when I do find something proving that Carnifex is really dead…" Gordon paused and then lowered his voice. "Would you do me the favor of looking over the evidence? Just because, like, I'm sure you're interested in what happened to him, probably." 

Andrew stopped walking, and it took a few seconds for Gordon to notice and backtrack. Andrew looked up and had to really rein in the urge to fucking _punch_ Gordon's stomach, hard enough to make him double over so Andrew could follow up with a knee him to the face. Long gone was any thought of being merciful and knifing the guy: Gordon deserved to suffer because his bigotry was _colossal_ , and so should be his pain. You know, to match the proportions. 

But Andrew didn't, mostly because he knew Wymack wouldn’t cover for him. Andrew had to be smart now that he wasn’t in the workforce anymore and didn’t have Wymack making excuses left and right for his liberal use of physical cognitive behavior therapy. Instead, he looked up at Gordon's smarmy face and spoke lowly in a menacing way that obviously unsettled Gordon. 

Good. 

"Firstly, do _not_ assume you know any interest of mine." Andrew gave a tiny step forward and Gordon unconsciously stepped back. It was nice to see that Andrew's reputation still counted for something, even though he couldn’t back it up at the moment. "Also, I'm not on the case, and technically, I'm a civilian. You shouldn't be fucking offering to share details of an investigation with me, you dumbass. And lastly… Wymack already called your attention to it. Use fucking they/them pronouns, Gordon. It's not fucking hard. Even your tiny atrophied brain can do it. We believe in you." 

Andrew had kept stepping closer and closer to Gordon, until he was able to make him bump into the nearest wall and, consequently, decidedly away from Andrew's path to the precinct's door, a.k.a. a step closer to freedom. 

Gordon didn't follow him, which was fucking sweet. Andrew had time to shoot Neil a text and relax against the wall near the door as he waited to be picked up. 

It didn’t take long for Andrew to start sweating under the midday sun. Still, Andrew would be dead before he took his long-sleeved shirt off. He settled for creasing his forehead in irritation, and watched as traffic passed. After a few minutes, the door to the precinct opened, and Andrew looked towards it, bored expression already living on his face. 

Then Renee came out of it and Andrew didn't get _excited,_ but he did turn his body a little more to pay attention to her as she approached. 

“Andrew.” Renee nodded and Andrew didn't say anything as he nodded back. “How are you doing?” 

If Andrew hadn't stopped smoking eight months ago, this would've been the perfect moment to throw a bunch of smoke at her as a reply. As it stood, he resigned himself to simply turning his gaze away from her toward his buzzing phone. 

“Do you need a lift?” Renee asked, but she already knew the answer, or that was what Andrew picked up from her tiny smile. “Or will Neil come and get you?” 

“They’re coming,” Andrew said, and Renee nodded. 

“Okay. Don't forget to tell them that they still haven't gotten back in touch with Allison about the barbecue. Everybody here wants to say goodbye to you properly.” 

Andrew gave her a look and she laughed—not maliciously. She probably just could read how Andrew _knew_ that she was lying through her teeth, any evidence of the good woman of Faith who spoke only truths as far away from there as she could be. 

The Truth that Renee was dressing up in false kindness was that what this band of idiotic, oversized monkeys really wanted was an excuse to drink a lot of booze and eat too much meat, all of that in Andrew's and Neil’s giant backyard. None of them who had actually met Neil had ever _really_ lost their fascination with Andrew’s partner—most importantly with how fucking _loaded_ Neil was. The bets about how Andrew managed to pull someone that rich had incredibly sizable pools, and they probably wanted to interrogate Neil so they could finally collect them. 

But sure, they wanted to say goodbye to Andrew, alright. 

A honk in the distance called their collective attention to the end of the street. The car that had honked hadn't turned the corner yet, but Andrew didn’t even try to hold back a sigh while Renee laughed out loud. Neil was too far away to warrant the honk, really, but they were just that kind of asshole. They always had been. Andrew couldn't remember one single fucking time where Neil hadn't come to the precinct, hand absolutely glued to the horn. 

Some people from the precinct were lured outside by it, especially the ones who were already more than familiar with who was responsible for the noise—like Boyd, who had absolutely no shame as he came out of the precinct flat-out _running._

"Neil!!" Boyd _shrieked_ in a high-pitched sound that made Andrew conceal a flinch. Neil didn’t bother to turn the ignition off as they came out of the driver's side, laughing as Boyd ran to them and pulled them over in a tight hug that raised Neil up in the air like a little kid. 

Andrew gave the scene a look of disgust that was quickly transferred to Renee when she dared to wish him a quiet “Good luck” without turning to look away from Neil. Andrew gritted his teeth, because he could feel he was being taunted, slightly: not only Renee knew he’d have a hard time actually going home now that Boyd was there—and Wilds, and Reynolds, and Wymack watching everything from the door—but she also knew that it didn’t matter how much Andrew protested: the barbecue _was_ going to happen in the end. 

He kicked the wall with his bad leg and ignored the pain he felt. Renee still didn’t deign him worthy of her attention, and Andrew didn’t want it. He just limped towards the passenger side of the car and struggled with the jammed door handle that Neil refused to fix since they’d kicked it on a rage—or as Andrew called it to their face, a temper tantrum. 

“I've missed you, buddy,” Boyd sobbed loudly—and fakely—making Neil laugh again. Andrew fought harder against the door handle. 

"Indoor voice, dude," they reminded Matt, who finally put Neil back on their feet. Unfortunately for Andrew, Matt started a mile-long chatter with Neil, who nodded along to whatever Matt was talking. Dan approached both of them not that long later when she noticed they'd be there for a while, Allison not that far behind her, arms linked with Renee's. 

Wymack kept his distance, a looming and observant threat, but he did salute Neil back when his existence was acknowledged. 

Renee was the only one who looked at Andrew when he opened and shut the door with brutal force. The others just ignored him, already used to Andrew's bad manners. Even Neil, which did _not_ make Andrew angry at all. 

At least inside their car, Andrew didn't have to worry about the weather outside or their mindless conversations. He knew it wasn’t really _that_ hot, but… using black long-sleeved shirts tended to make oneself feel a little _too_ warm, sometimes. He turned up the volume of what Neil had been listening as they drove here (even though he internally winced at how overwhelmingly _shrill_ Vitas’ voice was coming out of the speakers) and set the air conditioning to its maximum setting. 

When ten minutes had passed and Neil was _still_ outthere, nodding and smiling at whatever they were telling them, Andrew lost his fucking temper. He stretched his legs so he could press the correct pedal and revved the engine, as loudly and angry as he felt. 

Boyd visibly startled and looked at Andrew with terrified eyes. Wilds reacted on instinct and jumped back onto the sidewalk, turning just her head to frown at Andrew. Reynolds, for her part, gave Andrew the stink eye while Renee just smiled at him, but honestly? Andrew didn't fucking care about any of them. What mattered was that Neil was finally paying attention to him. 

Andrew snapped his good hand and pointed down to the driving seat, high enough that Neil could see through the windshield, although that meant they could glare at Andrew with exasperation. 

At least they got the memo that Andrew wanted to fucking go _home._ Neil visibly started to give their goodbyes and walked _leisurely_ towards the car, as if they had all the time in the fucking world. They were a fucking asshole, so Andrew didn’t care that he was cutting into their socializing time. Andrew was hungry and he knew he’d have to cook, because Neil had been taught to cook enough to survive but not enough for it to be _edible_ , tasty food. Also, Neil wouldn’t fucking help at all, so they had no business getting in Andrew’s way like that. 

Neil winced at the volume of the music when they got inside, and they were reluctant to close their door. With a sigh, they reached for the volume button and turned it down as they let their door bang itself shut. 

“Would it hurt you to be patient?” Neil asked, as Andrew turned the volume up but not as loud as it had been. Neil frowned as they turned it down a notch or two again. Andrew reached to turn it on again and Neil slapped the air on top of Andrew’s hand, clicking their tongue in annoyance. That was not enough to make Andrew refrain from turning the volume one single notch up. Neil glared. 

“I’m willing to be patient with things that matter.” Like Andrew's stomach, which was almost digesting itself but would have to wait until he got the chance to actually cook. 

“I see.” Neil’s frown dissolved as they started to grin at Andrew. “My happiness is worth so little to you that you won't even let me talk to my friends in peace?” 

“You talk to them every fucking day,” Andrew snarled and ignored the bastards on the sidewalk as the car started to move forward. All four of them were waving their goodbyes with gusto, even though they probably couldn't see with the sun shining down on their faces. Neil didn't ignore them, and honked uninterruptedly until they had turned the corner. “I also happen to know that you were probably organizing that stupid excuse of a goodbye party for me.” 

“It's not a stupid party. It's _thoughtful._ ” 

“Well, all of you can shove that thoughtfulness up your—” 

Neil turned the volume up and laughed at Andrew's face as they badly lip-synced the song. After the song was over and the volume was turned down once again, Neil turned to look at Andrew with a mischievous smile. 

“So… how was the meeting?” Neil prompted and ignored the honk they got from behind. The light was green and they both could see it, but Neil's priority seemed to try and extract any details they could from Andrew's face alone. “Are there any new clues?" 

“We'll talk when we're at home.” 

“Ooohhhh,” Neil stopped looking at him and the car behind them stopped honking as they inched their wait onto the road. “Mr. Cryptic.” 

Andrew rolled his eyes but didn't bother with a reply. Neil would already be too fucking unbearable when they actually heard the news. At least for now, Andrew could have a modicum of peace. 

* * *

The first thing Neil did when they got home was run from the car without even bothering to turn the fucking thing off. Or close their door. Fucking _again._

Andrew looked at Neil's receding back and took the key from the ignition himself, stretching so he could close the door after the idiot. He couldn’t wait until he felt strong enough to be able to drive himself around without his leg wanting to kill him. Neil was a good enough driver, but the sheer _cockiness_ of believing they were safe from criminals _had_ to go, sooner rather than later. Especially in regards to _Andrew’s_ car. 

It would take time, though, Andrew knew that. So there was nothing he could do but sigh and lock the damn car and the garage door, sluggishly moving inside—not because of pain, but because Neil's enthusiasm about Carnifex's case was tiring, to say the least. 

He was proven right when he got to their living room. Neil was sitting on the couch with their laptop in hand, staring down at it intently as if that would make it turn itself on quicker. 

“So,” Neil said when they noticed Andrew at the door. “What’s the news?” 

Andrew sighed and braced himself. “Gordon was assigned to the case.” 

At first, Neil just… blinked, not comprehending it. Then, a slow smile grew on their face, sprouting into the loudest and most annoying laugh Andrew had ever heard. 

When Neil was finally able to stop cackling, all they asked was, “Seth? They put fucking Seth in charge of the case? What the fuck are they _thinking_?” 

Neil wheezed, holding their stomach as if their arm was the only thing preventing them from falling apart. Andrew watched them blankly. When it looked like Neil was close to being done, Andrew answered their question. 

“I think this is Wymack’s way of ensuring the case will definitely be marked as cold.” Neil stopped wheezing and looked up at Andrew with a weary, worried face. “Probably trying to do a favor for us or something.” 

That made Neil sober up quickly and move around on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position. Neil tried not to look guilty in front of Andrew, and was failing spectacularly. Andrew usually just threw stuff at Neil whenever they dared to start beating themselves up for Andrew's injury—and Andrew didn't bother to think if it would hurt or be a financially bad decision. It was something _effective,_ after all. 

Yes, Andrew understood that it was incredibly hard for Neil to just be a simple dumbass and that they liked to make their own life difficult. Dodging heavy/pointy/generally damaging objects kept Neil conscious of the narrative they were telling themselves, regarding to their role and the _truth_ of what had happened. 

And the truth was that it _hadn’t_ been Neil’s fault that Andrew got hurt. Andrew should've cross-referenced the anonymous tip the precinct received with the information that Neil could provide. Then they wouldn't have fallen into a trap, and Neil wouldn't have been forced to expose themselves for three people: Renee, Kevin and Wilds, who had been trapped with Andrew in the crossfire between Neil's people and a bunch of idiots who wanted to make a move on Neil's turf. 

Andrew knew that Neil was mostly angry at themselves because the tip had come from one of their new runners, sent by Ichirou because he thought Neil might need to expand their territory soon. Unfortunately, the fucking idiot who was sent _hated_ cops, and hadn’t been informed that one particular cop was absolutely _off limits_ —let alone that most of the people at Andrew’s precinct were under Neil’s protection. Neil's people tried to concentrate on the idiots who were trying to invade their territory (who returned fire) as Andrew and the others scrambled for cover. Andrew wasn't fast enough, and the fucking idiotic runner was actually the one responsible for the three shots that had hit Andrew. 

Neil hadn't been happy—about the situation and with Ichirou, who hadn't briefed or vetted the guy properly. They’d been unhappy enough that Ichirou was able to see what a pissed off Neil looked like—which was rare, because Neil was always extremely cautious around their boss. 

The fucking idiotic runner was still registered as missing in Andrew’s precinct. 

Andrew knew that he would never be found again. 

However, what mattered was that Neil’s criminal career finally found a place an acceptable excuse to be terminated. Ichirou couldn’t argue to make Neil stay since _he’d_ been the one responsible for the shit that had exposed them. Even better, Neil had already paid all their debts a long time ago. The only reason they’d stayed for this long was because going against Ichirou without being properly prepared for the consequences wasn't smart. It was how Neil had gotten tangled in this shit fourteen years ago in the first place. 

But now? Ichirou had nothing. Neil’s identity wasn't a secret anymore, and Ichirou Moriyama couldn't keep them and risk his empire. So, Moriyama let Neil _go_ —as long as they trained their “replacement.” 

Also known as the scapegoat that would be incriminated and imprisoned as the Carnifex, so Neil could roam free. 

Well, that had been the plan before they had known Seth Gordon was assigned to the case. Who knew how long it would take for him to catch on, even if they dangled evidence directly under his nose. 

Not that time would be a problem, because they were both finally free—excluding the months Andrew had and would _still_ have to subject himself to physical therapy. Andrew wouldn’t need to keep being a detective just to make sure that Neil would find themselves in a bad place. 

Wymack had been gently informed about Neil’s identity—by Andrew, of course, who also came clear about his role from making his absolute best to ensure Neil had no connections to anything in the case. Also, it had to be Andrew since neither Renee nor Wilds had interest in turning him or Neil in. Kevin had to be convinced (and only threatened a _little_ ), but he came around in the end and let Andrew handle it however he wanted. 

Wymack had been lightly threatened into silence about it because at that point, the whole precinct already loved Neil. Including Wymack. So the threat wasn't really necessary, because Wymack was more than ready to work with them. 

"Not because I endorse what you did," Wymack had made it clear, and both Andrew and Neil had rolled their eyes at him. They knew Wymack wasn't dirty; he was just a bleeding heart who didn't feel like he could punish Neil for a crime committed in self-defense where there was no _proof_ connecting Neil to it. They gently didn't inform Wymack about the runner's destiny though. What didn't affect him shouldn't make him worried, after all. 

Wymack had been worried about the future, specifically how he was going to cover for them. They had to kindly tell Wymack that he wouldn't need to worry about Neil's criminal activities at all, past or present, and that they would deal with everything. They hadn't told him that Neil was leaving their… job. Or Andrew, for that matter. They were going to take care of everything, and Wymack didn't need to worry about getting his hands dirty at all. 

Judging by today's meeting, however, Wymack definitely _didn't_ trust them, and was trying to help as much as he could. 

Neil clicked away at their keyboard for a few seconds. "So. What shall we make our last entry say?" 

_Our._ Andrew scoffed. "I don't fucking care, that's your pet project. Also, you'll be happy to know that Gordon inspired another gender discussion." 

Neil sighed as they typed away, clicking their tongue in disappointment. "When will Seth learn that my gender is too deep and profound for his tiny, atrophied brain?" 

"Never, because he started to pull up statistics." 

"Ha!" Neil frowned at their laptop, erased something before going back to typing. "The day that crime statistics actually include non-binary people is the day that I'm out of the crime life." Andrew just looked at Neil, until they stopped typing. "What? You really think I can stay away from my criminal life? It's been beaten into my genes!" 

Neil laughed as Andrew looked at them even harder. "You should be sent to jail for being a bad comedian." 

"Me and how many others?" Neil shook their head and seemed to be satisfied with whatever they had written. "The system is already overcrowded, Andrew. We should be working on getting people _out._ " Neil gasped and looked at Andrew with a twinkle in their eye. "Future job: jail breaker!" 

"You would just get _yourself_ jailed." 

"Have some faith in me." Neil threw their laptop aside and stood up to march to their printer. Neil watched as the printer spewed whatever bullshit they'd written and then they ran back to Andrew, giving him the paper to be inspectioned. 

It said the date, followed by, " _Last meeting attended. Radio silence has been maintained and no signs of activity are predicted or expected. Comparing the timeline of past activities, this break reflects the one that happened 14 years ago,_ " and then there was an explanation of those circumstances and then it closed with, " _case transferred to the utmost competent detective Seth Gordon._ " 

"You are a bully," Andrew commented, but not accusingly. The day he defended Seth Gordon was the day that humanity would become clinically depressed as a whole. 

"Why? He's not even going to see it. Is it even bullying if it will have no effect whatsoever on his mental health?" 

Andrew said, "Yes," just to be contrary, before kissing whatever protest Neil was gearing up in that mischievous brain of theirs and going into the kitchen. His stomach had just reminded him that he was hungry, and Andrew had a giant tub of ice cream waiting for him in the fridge. And who the _fuck_ cared that it was almost time for lunch? Not him, not anymore. 

Neil took their sweet time to follow Andrew into the kitchen—probably because they had to put the last entry of documentation on their own fucking folder for this case's investigation. Neil stared at Andrew and the tub for a few seconds, as if they had never seen that combo before. 

"You devouring a tub of ice cream has only got hotter and hotter since we were kids," Neil commented as they approached Andrew's chair, looming over him a little. "The way that you seem completely immune to brain freeze is really attractive. Is that my lunch, too?” 

Andrew curved himself over his ice cream protectively without replying. Neil snorted. 

"Hey, remember that time when we were kids, and—" Neil kept talking but Andrew tuned them out. It was just Neil performing a monologue, really, because they both knew that yes, Andrew remembered. Neil was the only thing in his past that Andrew didn't mind remembering every single detail about. From the few months they spent together in that overcrowded San Jose foster home, to when they found themselves again in juvie, to the mess that Andrew had opened his door to, hours after Carnifex was born. 

When Neil's story turned toward Ichirou territory, Andrew cut them off by asking, "How's the new trainee going?" 

Neil snorted. "Fucking awful. Ichirou will just leave him around long enough to be my perfectly believable scapegoat." 

"That's nice," Andrew said, in the same way that he might say, "Look at that snake coming to bite us.” 

"Well, nice or not, at least I'll be out." Neil frowned and then raised one single eyebrow towards Andrew. "Where's the list of professions you said I could be decent at? I haven't seen it yet." 

"That's because I won't write the fucking thing," Andrew was looking down at the tub with a considering face. He had less than half left. He could save it for later, or he could really make it his lunch. 

Neil made the decision for him as they snatched it from his hands with a quick movement. Andrew tried to hold onto it, but his fingers were numb from holding the tub for too long. All Andrew could do was scowl at them as they put the lid back on and threw the tub in the back of the freezer. 

"Don't look at me like that, I'm fucking hungry," Neil whined and threw themselves at a chair, bemoaning their current fate as if they were in a Shakespearean play. "And you're being mean to me, so this balances it out. Also, did I tell you that I wanted a retirement lunch?" 

Andrew squinted at Neil but didn't answer or go to retrieve his tub from the freezer. Whatever joke Neil was brewing in that dumb brain of theirs was _not_ worth engaging with. Andrew stood up and went after the necessary ingredients so he could cook (Maybe a lasagna? That was relatively quick and painless but also… Neil liked lasagna. Maybe Andrew should fill it with vegetables and other stuff Neil disliked, to balance it out), which was enough to summon Neil's cats to the kitchen. 

(Andrew had gone through years without acknowledging the cats as his own, even superficially, he wasn't about to break right now.) 

"You get it?" Neil prompted him, smile evident in their voice. "Because I want a long lunch, and I'm retiring from my profession, and—" 

"That's a stretch for a joke," Andrew commented as he kneeled to find the specific oil that Neil tolerated to be used to fry their food. Not because he was going to fry anything, but just because he would be doing something as he tried to disparage Neil for their bad joke. 

"It's a great joke, you just can't admire the humor in it because you're still bitter about _your_ retirement." 

Andrew slowly turned around to look at them, to make sure Neil understood they were being judged. Neil didn't look sorry at all, though. Andrew didn't expect them to be, especially because both of them knew that the last thing Andrew was about his retirement was _bitter_. "The sight of your face makes me sick." 

"Well, I do remember a particular vow in some overpriced ceremony about sickness and health or whatever…" 

"I doubt those words were put there for the sole purpose of people having to bear the tasteless jokes from their spouses." 

"You are a complete—" Neil's words were lost in the loud sound of water rushing out of the faucet spewing out water as Andrew filled up a pot with it. Never had Andrew gotten a pot filled up quicker than that in his life. When Neil tried to complete their sentence again, Andrew just turned on his stove on—an old-fashioned _gas_ stove, letting the loud clicking of the burner and the smell of gas fill up the kitchen. 

Neil squinted at Andrew as they approached him, watching Andrew's movements like a hawk. The logical thing would be to think that Neil would at least get their ass up and shoo their cats out of Andrew's way, but they were _themselves_ behaving like a cat. If cats knew how to speak, of course. 

They asked a million questions about _everything_ Andrew was pulling out to make lunch, naturally getting in Andrew's way and constantly asking for kisses. The actual couple of feline beasts that belonged to them just watched as Andrew tried to chop carrots, ready to snatch it at the first sign of weakness, but not _fucking annoying Andrew._

Neil was doing a monologue about the crimes mushrooms had committed against them personally when Andrew called " _Neil_ " in a frustrated voice. Neil turned to look at Andrew with a distracted "Hm?" and snickered when they saw Andrew use the back of the hand that was holding a knife to try to shove Sir's face away from the chopping board. "Get the cats out." 

"Oh, Andrew, I can't! This is the perfect opportunity. Have I shown you that YouTube Japanese couple who have a cooking channel and three cats?" Neil came near Andrew and started to poke Andrew lightly on the shoulder, trying to get him to pay attention to them. "We need to see if the cats are comfortable in the kitchen. Who knows, I might become a YouTuber as well, since I have absolutely no other prospects in life now that my husband refuses to uphold his end in his vo—" 

It was the perfect opportunity and Andrew took it. Neil had opened their mouth on the vowel, exaggerating it, and Andrew threw a slice of carrot from his cutting board straight to Neil's mouth. 

They sputtered and then became red—from choking or from embarrassment, it was unclear. Neil was known as a very good evader—from the law, from fists and bullets— and Andrew imagined that being inattentive enough to not notice a carrot flying straight to their mouth must have _hurt_ a little bit. 

With tight lips, Neil got both cats under their arms and marched out of the kitchen. Andrew watched as his partner disappeared on their way to the living room and then sighed as he finally had enough peace to finish their lunch. 

His shoulder had started to complain a little, not exactly hurting him but making him _aware_ of its existence and, of course, the existence of the wound. Neil would've usually popped back around to help him put the plates, cutlery and everything else on the table, but they didn't come back. 

Andrew called them, and they still didn't come back. 

With a tiny put-on sigh, Andrew fixed two plates of food with giant pieces of lasagna, left them aside and put the leftover food (because Andrew had never really learned how _not_ to cook as if he wasn't expecting 11 hungry children to appear around the stove) in the fridge. They wouldn't have to order take-out, even though Andrew knew that Neil would try to bargain for Indian food. 

Andrew finished up, grabbing the plates and walking out, finally finding Neil sitting on the ground with King on their lap, holding up one of their shoelaces and playing despondently with Sir. 

"Lunch is ready," Andrew told them. 

"Are you gonna throw it in my mouth, one bite at a—" Neil stopped themselves when they raised their eyes, only to be faced with Andrew waiting in front of their face with a forkful of food. 

Neil's eyes softened. "This is cheesy." 

Andrew almost answered with, "And you're a highly wanted criminal who's ridiculous." but Neil had taken the food, so Andrew wouldn't complain. 

Neil ate much more than Andrew thought they would before they turned their head away from the fork Andrew was holding in front of their face. Neil watched as Andrew finished Neil's plate and started on his own, knowing he wouldn't eat everything just in case Neil found their appetite again. 

"Talk," Andrew said, mouth half-full of food. 

"I'm just being dumb," Neil sighed and hugged their legs. "What if Ichirou goes back on his word?" 

"He's yakuza," Andrew said, munching and swallowing what he had just put in his mouth because Neil gave him a dirty look. "He won't go back on his words. He has honor or some shit." 

"But what if he—" Neil clicked their tongue, and their face scrunched up in clear annoyance. "I hate this. I hate how uncertain my future looks." 

"Neil… it’s not like your future was certain when you were involved in organized crime. You only had two basic options: prison or six-feet under." 

"There are people who leave it and survive," Neil argued stubbornly. 

"Yes," Andrew said, forcefully. "There are." 

Neil stiffened and looked up sharply. "Did you just force me to get to the conclusion you wanted?" 

"That sounds convoluted." 

Neil squinted at him. "Was that supposed to take the blame away from you? You’re a cop, a detective. You _know_ how to be convoluted." 

Andrew's answer was to put his fork down on the plate and pass it over to Neil. Neil took the plate with reluctance, but after a few seconds of silence a big, long sigh, they started to eat. 

"We both know that you didn't exactly enter this life _willingly_ ," Andrew said and they both stop to remember their reunion, after the almost one year that they lived in the same house in California—before the Spears and juvies and twins and before the Moriyamas located Neil. "You paid your debt to the family with fucking interest a long time ago. The fact that Ichirou kept stretching and stretching it doesn't change the fact that he didn't have a full hold on you for a long time—and now he never will." 

Andrew thought that at least it was a blessing that Neil was higher in the chain, because they could've received the tip of a finger as an apology for Andrew's injury. It was one of Neil's runners, yes, but it was a _Moriyama_ employee. 

"That's not reassuring," Neil told Andrew. "I've had _years_ of working under the same boss, with the same fucking people. I had built respect and a place for myself. I'm—" 

"Someone who thinks that they are the first person to change careers when they were in a… let's use 'successful place' very loosely." 

"I know that," Neil growled and glared. "I _know_ I'm not the first one, but it's still hard to wake up and know that my life might be safe or it might _not_. What if someone who had a personal vendetta against Carnifex comes around to end me? Or worse, _you?_ " 

"Neil. Don't go there," Andrew warned them, glaring himself. "You've managed to keep your real identity separated from your crimes. Also, Ichirou _promised_ nothing would happen to you or any of yours ever again, and it did. We both know he'll do anything to keep it from happening again, because he didn't signed you up to be a target." 

"No, he signed me up because I'm good with finances, I don't treat the girls badly, and I keep a tight leash on the troublemakers." 

"Yes, basically all that, but in the past tense. You don't have to come up with clever ways to make them money, the girls will have a new boss and the troublemakers are somebody else's problem." Neil clearly hadn't noticed the verbal slip and they frowned, apparently mad at themselves. Andrew couldn't help but sigh, keeping a tight grip on his frustration. "Neil, you will be _fine_." 

"I think I will, but…" Neil gritted their teeth and finally looked at Andrew. "I'm not _sure_ that I will." 

"Good," Andrew said which apparently startled Neil. "It'll keep you on your feet and moderately vigilant. We both know you can't live a life without putting yourself in _at least_ a little bit of danger." 

"Is there any profession where that's useful? _No._ " 

"Yes." Andrew lightly pulled at Neil's bare feet. "You'd make an okay skydiver instructor." 

"But that's—" 

"We could go back to California, and you could start training to be a stunt actor," Andrew talked over Neil, and this one seemed to call their attention. "You'd probably get hired to be female body doubles, but you'd be good at that. You know martial arts, you're good with knives and guns, you're a quick driver, and you have an stupid amount of luck. If you don't want to keep risking your life, you could do something math-related. Actually become an accountant. You might be overwhelmed by the uncertainty of your future, but it's just because you haven't decided what you want to do now that you're _free._ But you'll find your answer." 

Neil smiled at Andrew, soft and sweet. Andrew scowled at them but his heart melted. He had just averted another emotional breakdown, which was good, but he also knew they'd have loads of those in the future. 

"And all of that came from the guy who once told me that he wasn't my answer," Neil commented, putting their plate on top of the other and scooting on their ass to get closer to Andrew. 

Andrew, however, couldn't help but snarl. 

"I'm _still_ not your answer," he said, frostily. Neil kept smiling and they found their place between Andrew's legs, shoving their legs over Andrew's hips and resting their hands lightly on Andrew's shoulder. The touch was more soothing than distressing for Andrew, and he felt himself relaxing as Neil just kept looking at him, not bothering to guard what their _heart_ was saying through their gaze. "But I'll help you find something that can be." 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>   
>  As you can see, this fic doesn't feel like the beginning of a series, mainly because _it isn't _. This is the end of it, when they are already together and ready to settle down with clean sheets or whatever.__  
>   
>  If you are interested, I plan on writing their meetings as children, their many reencounters, the crimes, the highs and lows of collegiate sports (kidding, theres no exy here lmao), and whatever else strikes my fancy!  
>   
> Btw, criticism is welcome!!! you can leave your food for thought down in the comments, or at [my tumblr](http://polzkadotz.tumblr.com) or even on my [twitter](http://twitter.com/polzka_dotz)???????? idk friendos, you do you


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